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A five o’clock morning, almost. About five-thirty. It was so chilly, it felt a little like January. I don’t think I ever had occasion to say that in June before. Since I felt wide awake, I decided to open all the windows and doors, wanting to take advantage of the cool air and get more of it inside the house before the sun rises.
I also had a lot on my mind. I was thinking a lot more about recollecting memories from the deep and dark past and of childhood lost, and putting them here with these ‘chapters’ on our current day-to-day life. This ‘book’ would remain very homey, although the story would now traverse more freely across time, including our old homelife, when the home was fuller and we were very young. Maybe once this gets started in earnest, the memories will come quicker and fuller, for whatever those poor memories of a trifling life may be worth. You can only write what you know.
I also had a lot on my mind. I was thinking a lot more about recollecting memories from the deep and dark past and of childhood lost, and putting them here with these ‘chapters’ on our current day-to-day life. This ‘book’ would remain very homey, although the story would now traverse more freely across time, including our old homelife, when the home was fuller and we were very young. Maybe once this gets started in earnest, the memories will come quicker and fuller, for whatever those poor memories of a trifling life may be worth. You can only write what you know.
